


The Broken Jewel

by PrairieMule



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Death (non graphic), Brothers, Brothers being dumb dumbs, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Going on an Adventure, Mystery, Pre-Canon, Takes Place in 1887, Young Arthur Morgan, Young John Marston, but still caring about each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieMule/pseuds/PrairieMule
Summary: In the late summer of 1887, Arthur and John find themselves looking into what should be a few simple scores in the town of Jewel, Colorado. But the deeper they dig, the more complicated it becomes. How far will they go to discover town's secrets?A story revolving mostly around the brothers and their escapades!
Relationships: John Marston & Arthur Morgan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	1. You'll Trip in the Dark

_Late Summer, 1887_

The pitter-patter of feet echoed throughout the dim mine shaft. Followed quickly by much louder footfalls. A boy rushed through the tunnel, running as fast as his gangly legs could take him. Clutching a saddlebag to his chest with one hand, the other holding a lantern. Lighting his way, yet revealing his position to his pursuers.

“Shit, _shit_.” He repeated, over and over, a mantra to keep himself focused. He kept his feet moving, his eyes forward into the inky blackness. One misstep and it was over. A single fall, even a stumble, and they’d be on him. From there? Jail time or death. Neither were what he needed.

What he _needed_ was to snuff out the light and hide. But they were too close to pull that move. And he wasn’t fast enough to pull ahead, if anything they were gaining on him.

So he continued his mantra and ran for his life.

“Quit this running boy!” One of them yelled. “The longer it takes us to catch you, the worse you’re making it for yourself!”

“Go to _hell_!” The boy screamed into the darkness, the curse echoing alongside the ever-present rhythm of stomping feet.

His pursuers were closing in on him as he turned down another tunnel, following the cart tracks, hoping they would lead him . . . somewhere.

And they did. Right into a dead end. The boy had to practically skid to a stop, preventing himself from running off the edge of an underground cliff. The tunnel opened up into a small cave chamber, a massive drop off the mine ran into, preventing the track from going any further. At least that’s what the boy probably would have figured out had he had time to think about the chamber he was in. Instead, he was suddenly grabbed around the waist and hoisted into the air. The lantern flung from his hand as the boy came to his senses and flailed, clattering off and shattering a distance away. But he held the precious bag, steadfast.

The man roughly threw him to the rocky floor, thankfully a good ways from the hole, then pinned him easily enough, the other one walking up and shining his own lantern on them as he stood over the scene. 

“Maybe we should just dump him off into that little cave down there.” The thin man with the lantern said. The boy’s eyes darted over to him, sickened by the gleeful gleam in the grown man’s eyes.

The one pinning him thought on this. “Be more fun to watch him hang.” The larger of the two said. “‘Sides, there could be a way out down there. We don’t want this kid escaping again.”

“True enough.” The other shrugged.

All his flailing and struggling was useless as the bag was ripped from his grasp by the man holding him down. “Give that back!” The boy howled.

“It ain’t yours to begin with you little thief.” The larger man growled. “‘Bout the worst bandit I’ve ever seen.”

The thin one laughed. “I’m gonna enjoy watching you swing, brat. Putting us through the ringer like this? What you deserve.”

While losing the bag was not desirable, it meant his hands were free. With the two men distracted by their gloating, the boy reached down to his gun belt, his worn out revolver sat useless in its holster, long since out of bullets. But his knife was still sheathed.

Grabbing the handle of the blade, the boy whipped it out, surprisingly quick despite the awkward position he was pinned in. Immediately plunging it into the nearest bit of flesh on the man holding him down. 

The man yowled and stood up on instinct, the knife buried in his thigh. “You’re gonna pay for that, you little shit.” He hissed, kicking at the boy, who successfully rolled away.

Scrambling to his feet, the boy stood unsteadily, exhausted from running and nerves shaking. It was no surprise he couldn’t get out of the way of the second one as he was pushed back into the chamber wall, a forearm to his throat, pinned once more. Out of the frying pan . . . into another.

“Killing you would make this all so much easier.” The thin one snarled. “Ain’t nobody out there who would miss you.”

“You’ve got that right.” Said a voice all too familiar to the kid’s ears.

His captor turned around, a resounding _BANG_ echoed through the small chamber, blood and viscera erupting from the back of the man’s skull. A geyser of gore as he died instantly, collapsing awkwardly to the floor, his weight dragging the boy with him.

Buried under the corpse, he could only watch as his other pursuer yelped at the sight, reaching quickly for the revolver at his hip, only to be met by the same fate. A bullet perfectly between the eyes, falling backwards, knife still sunk in his thigh. Dead.

A pool of blood steadily grew on the stone floor as the boy struggled to remove the body weighing him down. He watched the tall and broad shape of his savior approach and lean forward, grasping the corpse by the shirt collar, then easily toss the body to the side.

Exhausted and shaken, he would have remained prone on the floor had it not been for the puddle of blood creeping ever closer. As he moved to stand, a large hand grasped his bicep, pulling him not so gently to his feet. There was something of a low growl coming from the man as he stared down at the boy. “What did I tell you, John?”

The young boy narrowed his eyes. Of course his brother was going to blame him for this, it was somehow always his fault. “I didn’t have a choice! I did what I had to!” He hissed back, attempting to rip his arm away.

The grip only grew tighter. “You run into a goddamn cave? That’s what you had to do? What would have happened if I hadn’t been able to find you?”

John growled too. “Well, then I think I would have died, Arthur.” Then he mumbled to himself. “Not that you’d care.”

Arthur’s grip let up, then finally completely released him. Standing up straight he shook his head. “If you died, I’m sure I’d be next. Dutch would slit my throat if I got his golden boy killed.”

The boy stepped away from the man, finally scanning the dark chamber, Arthur had a lantern hanging from his belt, casting light and shadows all around, he was able to spot the missing bag easily enough. Approaching it, he picked it up and checked its contents. Both sides of the saddlebag were still filled with cash, jewelry, and other valuables. It had been securely cinched shut before he’d run off, it appeared nothing had fallen out during his escape.

Turning he saw Arthur patting down the bodies, looting a gold pocket watch from one and not so gently yanking a ring off the other, John could swear he heard a tiny snap. As he stood, he glanced at the boy, then the bag in his hands. Without a word Arthur snatched the saddlebag, then turned and left. After standing in stunned frustration, John scurried after, afraid to be left in the dark.

The only sound to be heard was the patter of their footsteps echoing through the cave. A fast rhythm following behind a slower one as John did his best to keep up with the big man’s naturally long strides.

John kept his mouth shut the whole walk, letting Arthur find their way out. The man always seemed to know where he was, like he had an internal map. He’d never seen him get lost. Not once.

He knew they were getting close when the feeling in the air began to change, the smell was different, the temperature too. Turning one final corner the mouth was revealed to them. Moonlight seeping into the dark tunnels, John smiled wide, in spite of himself. Not twenty minutes ago he thought he was going to die in these tunnels. To leave them alive and well was another slap to the face of those who tried to kill him.

When John attempted to run ahead into the fresh air promised by that clear, starry night sky, Arthur grabbed hold of his shoulder, instantly anchoring him in place. “Slow down, boy.” He growled. “Need to be careful, in case there’s any more around.”

Held still, John had no choice but to obey. “Fine.” He grumbled.

Arthur let go and turned forward, snuffing the lantern. John rubbed at the spot he’d been gripped when the big man wasn’t looking. His brother moved quickly and silently, despite his large size. John kept pace at his back, the two of them staying close to the wall of the tunnel. 

Right near the entrance, Arthur halted, John nearly slamming into him at the sudden stop. He would have liked to hiss something at Arthur, but knew better in their current situation. They waited there a good while, simply listening to the sounds beyond the dark confines of the abandoned mine. Owls, whippoorwills, coyotes, wolves, wind rustling leaves, and the huff of a bored horse.

Apparently this was acceptable to Arthur, and he moved out at last. He gave a quick, short whistle and that same bored horse perked up and clomped towards them.

John took a moment to breath in the night air, but it wasn’t the refreshing gulp of air he was hoping for, there was something sour and foul lingering around them. It took John but a moment to realize what it was. He scanned the dusty overgrown trail, finding the big lump of a silhouette near the main road. Without thinking he ran up to it, finding his horse, now long gone. She’d been barely breathing the last he saw her.

The young boy kneeled next to the large animal, still shocked by it all, he wasn’t able to feel much in that moment. John simply sat, staring at the closed eyes of this once vibrant bay. She’d been old, but it was still hard to lose her so suddenly. 

After a few moments he was interrupted by Arthur, now up on his big roadster, Artemisia. “I saw what happened to Lucy, John. She was a good horse. We don’t got time to collect all the tack from her, and I wouldn’t be able to carry you and your saddle on my horse anyway . . . but . . . take something. To remember her by.”

John nodded, trying to think what he could grab quickly. He remembered there’d always been a loose decorative star shaped grommet on her bridal, he found it and pulled it off after a little bit of a struggle. He stood up with it held tightly in his palm, after a moment he put it in his pocket. Then he reached for his knife, and grasped at empty air. “Shit!” He hissed.

He heard Arthur sit up straight in his saddle, “What is it?” His brother asked.

John looked towards the mine entrance. “Left my knife in there.”

“Well, we ain’t going back for it, let’s get a move on.” Arthur rode up closer and reached for him.

“No, wait!” John backed away.

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. “What is it? We can’t go get it.”

“No, I just . . . I just wanted a piece of her mane.”

In the darkness, John could nearly swear he saw Arthur’s features soften. He shook his head, pulling out his own knife and handing it over. “Hurry up, Johnny.”

John nodded, taking the blade and cutting a good chunk of mane from Lucy, bundling the pieces together with a few hairs wrapped around the middle, then shoved that into his pocket too. Returning the knife, he clambered up onto Artemisia’s rump, Arthur turned and grabbed him by the seat of his pants, hoisting John up behind him. The kid barely had time to wrap his arms around Arthur’s midsection before he spurred his horse forward and took off at a gallop.

John was used to this, riding behind Arthur, as he had for all the time before he’d gotten his own horse. But just because he was used to it didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be a long, rough ride back to camp.

–»»»•«««–

John had gotten lucky. Again. Somehow, his little brother managed to constantly find himself in dire situations, yet always came out with hardly a scratch. Arthur often wondered if or when that luck would run out. He wasn’t always going to be there to drag him out from trouble.

And trouble was all Arthur assumed they were going to be in when they made it back to camp. Thinking about what was to come, he unconsciously sighed.

Far enough away from their botched robbery, Arthur had since slowed his horse down to an easy walk. Giving her a rest from the hard gallop he’d driven her to. It had been a wild and long night for all of them, and without knowing for sure what else was waiting for them out there, it would be a dangerous idea to exhaust their only mount.

John seemed to have fallen asleep behind him, but the shift from Arthur’s colossal sigh woke the boy up. Yawning he sat up straight, “How much further, Arthur?”

“So you done drooling on me, boy?”

“Shut up.” He mumbled his reply.

Arthur chuckled to himself. “Well, we’re getting close.”

“Okay . . .” John said. The pause that followed was familiar to Arthur, something was clearly on Johnny’s mind, it was a tossup as usual to whether or not he would speak on it.

The big man pulled out a cigarette as he waited, striking the match on his saddle and lifting it to the cigarette waiting in his mouth. Bringing it to life, he shook the match out, tossing it to the side.

By the time he inhaled and blew out the first puff of smoke, John spoke up again. “I ain’t . . . I ain’t ever lost a horse before, Arthur.”

He made a humming sound. He figured that was it. He could have been mean about it, blamed John for her death. But that wasn’t fair to the kid. So he sighed and said, “Never easy, John. Never easy.”

“Lucy was old but . . . she wasn’t supposed to go so soon.”

“Life’s like that, kid. You know it. It’s unfair.”

“Yeah, but I should have been able to do something.”

“Can’t let yourself dwell on it too long.” He looked over his shoulder at his little brother, the pain obvious on John’s face.

“But - "

Arthur shook his head, staring forward again. “Kid, we got the money. We both survived. You lost Lucy, but it could have been much worse. Could have been you, or me.”

John grumbled and went silent. And Arthur wanted to kick himself. Fourteen years old, give or take, and John had seen the worst of humanity already. From his upbringing and now to this new life as a barely teenaged outlaw. But there was still innocence in him, and Arthur was dismissing that. He’d lost a horse before as well, he knew that pain. But now it was too late, he wasn’t going to apologize to John, the kid would take that and run with it for miles. And there was too much pride in Arthur for that.

So quiet followed as they continued through the wilderness, distant mountains silhouetted in the moonlight as the stars speckled the sky above them. During this time on the trail so late at night, they crossed but one person. A man, quite drunk, mumbling about how he wished whiskey grew on trees. Arthur gave a soft greeting to the man who seemed to not see him at all.

When it came time to move off the main road and down a thin, nearly invisible trail, Arthur could at last see the faint glow of a small campfire. He let out another sigh as they broke through the tree line, the whole camp coming into view. They were home safe, something not a few hours ago he feared was going to be impossible. 

With Artemisia at a stop, Arthur dismounted quickly and quietly. Turning, he helped John down, despite the boy’s protests. Arthur ignored him, grabbing John under the armpits and lifting him off the horse, setting him solidly on the ground.

“I coulda got down myself” He grumbled softly.

“This is a tall horse, and you are a _little_ kid.” Arthur replied, voice quiet as well.

“I ain’t little” He hissed. “And I always got down from Lucy just fine.”

“From where I’m standing, you’re pretty damn small.” Arthur said, quickly undoing the straps on Artemisia’s saddle. “Lucy was practically a pony and you had the assistance of stirrups and a saddle.” Arthur shook his head, pulling his tack from her back and placing it over a hitching post. “Enough of that. We don’t wanna wake anybody.”

John gave him one of his deathly glares, it would have perhaps been frightening on a big man, but on this lanky kid it was just amusing. So he rolled his eyes, grabbed by the kid’s shoulder, then turned him and gave him a light push into camp.

Moving quietly towards their shared tent, the two of them passed by the biggest living quarters in camp, Dutch’s outfitter’s tent. Perhaps if he’d still had someone to share it with, it wouldn’t seem so ridiculous for one man. But Dutch had run Miss Eleanora out a few months back. She’d been a decent woman. Or so Arthur had thought.

Their tent was located on the further end of camp, close to the small but clear creek which had made this spot ideal for their setup. John went inside ahead of him, and just as he was getting ready to duck inside himself, he heard the familiar soft voice.

“So you two made it back safely?”

Arthur stood up quickly and turned around, The slight, fair-haired figure of Hosea stood looking him over. “Of course, Hosea. Just had a few mishaps along the way. Didn’t wake you, did we?”

“No, I was up. You and John ain’t hurt, are you?” The older man asked, approaching him. 

Arthur shook his head. “Nah, other than a few scrapes on Johnny.”

Behind him the teenager in question popped out from the tent. “I got chased by guards . . . and-and one of them shot Lucy.” John said quickly. “She’s gone.”

“Oh,” Hosea said, shocked. “I’m sorry to hear that, John.”

The boy folded his arms and looked at the ground, muttering something unintelligible.

“I’m glad you’re both alright though.”

“We’re okay.” Arthur replied, then he had a sudden realization, removing the saddlebag from his shoulder he handed it to Hosea. “Nearly forgot, here’s the take. Didn’t lose anything.”

Hosea pushed it back to him. “We’ll worry about that in the morning. Dutch’ll be happy to know. I just wanted to be sure you two made it back.”

The young man nodded. “You wasn’t staying up worried about us, were you?”

“Hmph. Bessie says I worry too much, but how can I not with you two?”

“Well, we’re back and in one piece. Mostly.”

“That you are. Let’s try to keep it that way, alright?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Hosea patted him on the shoulder. “All we can ask.” Then he looked down at John. “This is not what you want to hear, but we’ll get you another horse soon enough.”

John nodded. “Alright.”

“I better get to bed before Bessie wakes up and sees I’ve been out worrying all night. She’ll tease me something fierce. Good night boys.”

“Good night, Hosea.” They both said.

Arthur turned, John looked up at him, something sad in his eyes. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, John.” He said simply. “You need sleep.”

“You do too.” He replied.

“Yes I do.” Arthur pushed John inside, then ducked in himself.

Their small space had a cot on either side, with a couple little tables for their things. Arthur took off his hat, dropping it on his table next to a picture frame, then removed his satchel and put it along with the saddlebag full of loot on a small chair.

John had gone directly to his cot, only yanking off his boots before burying himself under the covers. They were both dirty as sin. But it was late and the creek water was cold. Besides, they were far too tired to clean up. So the bedding would have to suffer.

Arthur lit a single candle then plopped onto his own cot and kicked off his boots. He laid back and pulled his journal out from his satchel on the chair. Taking to writing and sketching.

It wasn’t long before he heard soft, muffled snoring from John. Arthur gave a small snort of amusement. The kid must have been exhausted. Eventually he felt himself begin to nod off. Arthur put the journal away, pulling the blankets over himself, sleep finding him quickly.

\-----

The usual sounds of camp life came to him as Arthur blinked his eyes awake. He shook his head and stretched out. Lying there for a few moments before finally throwing the covers off and braving the cool morning air. Opposite him, there was still a lump on the other cot, and that same snoring. Arthur sighed, but let the kid sleep. He’d had a hell of an experience the night before.

Arthur changed into fresh clothes, grumbling as the first shirt he put on was too small, and he ripped the shoulder seam trying to get it on. He’d had another growth spurt, filling out his large frame even more. At twenty-four years old, he wondered when that was going to stop. Already feeling too big and awkward. He swept the thought aside, putting on a different shirt.

At last he pushed himself out from the tent, he’d not slept long, as it was still dim out. He shook his head again and ran his hand through his hair before putting his black gamblers hat on. Moving towards the felled tree they’d been using for firewood, he went to chop what was needed for the day.

Fifteen minutes later, he had a good pile of wood which he bundled up and brought to the main campfire where he found Susan making a pot of coffee. “Morning Ms. Grimshaw.” He greeted her, voice still rough from recently waking up.

“Good morning, Mr. Morgan.” She stood and brushed herself off, this early in the morning and yet her brunette hair was made up perfectly and her clothes were neat and tidy. “Did you have any luck yesterday? Dutch was going on about how great that tip was.”

Arthur nodded. “We got the money. But things didn’t go completely according to plan.”

“Do they ever?”

He laughed. “No, but I wish they would.”

She sighed. “I wish they could too. Things would be better ‘round here that way.”

“Anything in particular you need me to do today?” Arthur asked her, stifling a yawn.

“There’s always things to do, Mr. Morgan. But you really ought to eat something first.”

Arthur sighed, he’d had a gnawing feeling in his stomach since he woke up. He hadn’t eaten last night at all. “Alright, Ms. Grimshaw.”

“Have some coffee first.” She said as she turned away.

He nodded, grabbing a nearby cup and pouring himself some very black coffee. It was hot but he sipped away at it as he made his way towards the chuck wagon, hoping to grab something quick to eat.

Halfway there, from the corner of his eye he saw black and red approaching, then that booming voice greeting him. “Arthur, my boy.” Dutch said, grinning. The tall, dark haired man put a hand on his shoulder. “How _did_ that little hold up go yesterday?”

Arthur smiled at him, happy to be able to report good findings, for the most part. “Got a decent take, I’ll go grab the bag.”

“Excellent!” Dutch replied, releasing him. “Come find me at the camp table when you’re through. And bring John with you, I’d like to hear from him too.”

The young man’s smile turned to a slight frown. “He’s uh, he had a rough day yesterday, are you sure you want me to wake him up?”

“That boy sleeps enough as is, bring him with.” Dutch said, sternness rising in his tone.

“Course, Dutch.” Arthur replied, heading off towards his tent. He found the saddlebag full of loot still inside, and the lump on John’s cot hadn’t budged an inch. With the saddlebag over his shoulder, he lightly put a hand on the lump and shook.

A groan and sigh answered him. “What is it?” came the muffled reply. 

“Gotta get up, Dutch wants you there when I go over the loot with him.”

Another sigh. “I’m tired, Arthur.”

He shook his head. “I know, but come on.”

“Just give me five more minutes.”

“Five minutes isn’t going to make you less tired, Johnny.”

“You don’t know that.” John threw the cover from his face so he could glare at Arthur again. 

“You never sleep at all.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smirk at that childish display. “John, if you don’t get out of bed yourself I’m going to drag you out of this tent wrapped up in those blankets.”

John continued to glare, and Arthur knew the kid wasn’t going to cooperate.

“Okay. Don’t forget I _did_ warn you.” Arthur said simply, reaching down and grabbing hold of the bundle of blankets.

The boy went wide-eyed, apparently this wasn’t how he expected it to go. “That ain’t fair!” He shrieked, voice cracking.

“I know, John, but come on. Should’ve listened to me.”

John squirmed in his grasp as Arthur pulled him off the bed and walked backwards out the tent. “You can put me down now!”

So Arthur did, dropping him to the ground.

The kid scrambled to get out from the cocoon of blankets he’d made for himself, but once he was free he looked like a wild cat ready to claw Arthur’s eyes out. The chill air making his gangly little body shiver.

Arthur stared down at him, almost daring him to try something dumb.

It seemed like John was going to take up the challenge, but they were quickly interrupted, “You two okay over here?” 

Arthur looked up to see Bessie approaching. “Good morning Mrs. Matthews.” He replied quickly. “Just trying to get the day going.”

“Oh, is that what I just saw?” Her tone was teasing.

“Arthur threw me on the ground!” John accused.

Betrayed, Arthur glared at John. “You know that ain’t what happened, Dutch wants you out of bed!”

“You could have asked _nicely_!” John hissed.

“I _did_ ask nicely!” Arthur shot back. “You weren’t _listening_ ”

Bessie walked closer, gently separating the two of them. “Alright, alright, enough of that.” She sighed and looked up at Arthur. “Perhaps don’t drop children on the ground, Arthur?”

He grumbled, feeling the shame of disappointing Bessie. “Okay.”

Then she turned her attention down to John, his face smug from Arthur’s scolding. “And how about you listen to your older brother when he asks you to do something?”

John frowned, but conceded. “Hmph. Fine.”

She stood up straight and stepped back, looking at the two of them. “I know you two aren’t going to listen to what I just said. But, thank you for pretending at least.” She smiled at them, teasing again. But then, her expression became stern. “Hosea was real worried about you boys, so please look out for each other, okay? And I can’t pretend you two don’t worry me as well.”

Arthur scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll be okay, Mrs. Matthews.” 

“I won’t be if Arthur keeps beating me up.” John grumbled.

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. “ _That_ was not me beating you up, you’d know it if I _was_.”

Bessie laughed at them. “Maybe you two’ll grow out of it eventually.” she paused. “But probably not.”

From across the camp, Dutch’s voice cut through the air. “Arthur, John. Come on, don’t leave me waiting!”

Looking towards the table, Dutch was seated with Hosea standing next to him, the two must have been chatting about something. “Yes, Dutch.” Arthur replied in a quick shout, he grabbed John by the bicep and started moving him towards the table. “Sorry, Mrs. Matthews.” He said to her. “Gotta get a move on.”

“I understand, hope it all goes well.” She replied. He saw her bend down and pick up the dirty blankets and bundle them into her arms before he looked back towards Dutch and Hosea.

John tried to tug his arm loose, so Arthur released him and let him walk on his own. He saw the kid rub the spot he’d gripped on his arm out of the corner of his eye. Arthur frowned, he was being too rough with the kid.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Dutch said as they sat down at the opposite side of the table.

Arthur dropped the saddlebag on the table, opening one side of it to show the contents within. Dutch’s eyes lit up as Arthur dumped the valuables out and into an empty bowl on the table, then did the same with the other side.

A big pile of money, coins, jewelry, and other items sat before them. After giving it a good look, Dutch pushed it over to Hosea who took to counting and examining it. 

“Well done, boys.” Dutch said, something like pride in his voice. “I knew that tip was going to pay off.” Now he looked at them, something scrutinizing in his dark eyes. “It all went smoothly I assume?”

“Well . . . uh.” Arthur didn’t want to say. Didn’t want to disappoint Dutch. But he had to be honest with him. “It was going fine to begin, John stopped the wagon.”

Dutch interrupted before Arthur could go further. “That is very well done, John.” He praised the young boy.

John beamed a bit at that. “I played an injured, lost child.”

Hosea paused his counting and laughed. “So you can play a part after all.”

“Make an outlaw out of you yet, son.” Dutch said.

The kid basked in this praise as Arthur went forward with the tale. “Yes, that part went according to plan. I shot the two guards who came up to John. Robbed all the rich snobs inside.”

Dutch interrupted again “Good job, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded, pushing aside the praise. “I gave the money to John and told him to get going, since a kid’s gonna be less suspicious with a robbery down the road than I would look.” He paused. “And then four more guards we weren’t warned about showed up.”

The smile plastered on Dutch’s face vanished in an instance. “Excuse me?”

“Two of them held me up, while the other two went after John.” Arthur looked over to John. “You want to tell them what happened”

John frowned. “Umm . . . I saw them coming and got Lucy to go faster, but she’s an . . . or she was an old horse and they caught up to me. She got shot out from under me and I ran into the nearest bit of cover I could find.”

Arthur stopped him. “He ran into a cave and I was lucky enough to find him before they killed him.”

“What happened to the guards holding you up, Arthur?” Dutch looked at him.

“Killed them.” He said simply.

“And the ones who chased John?”

“Killed them too.”

His expression seemed to turn proud for but a moment, before it went dark once more. “I’ll be honest with you boys, I’m rather disappointed.”

There was the trouble Arthur was worried about, that he almost thought he’d avoided. “We made it out okay, Dutch.”

“But Lucy didn’t, and you two could have gotten killed. Or could have lost the money.” He sighed. “Thought you knew better, son.”

Arthur shook his head. “I’ll do better next time.”

“Poor John lost his horse because of carelessness.” Dutch continued. “I don’t have you looking after him so things like that happen. You need to keep him safe.”

“I know, Dutch. I know. But we weren’t warned about those additional guards” Arthur said. “In the end I got the situation under control.”

Hosea spoke up. “Don’t be so hard on them, Dutch. Things hardly ever go according to plan.” 

Dutch huffed a bit. “That is true, old man. Very true.”

Hosea had the money divided into three piles, one bigger and two equal but smaller stacks. “Besides, trouble aside you made out with a good bit of cash.” He handed the money to the boys. “Your cuts. The other half for camp of course.”

John nearly launched across the table, grubby hands eagerly grabbing the bills. So rarely a part of jobs, he didn’t get money often.

Arthur took his cash and shoved it in his satchel. Standing up. “Is there anything else you need from us, Dutch? I should get to doing more chores.”

Dutch stood too, grabbing the rest of the money and putting it back in the bowl. “I do have something I need. From both of you.”

Arthur looked at him, brow raised. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

“It’s time you two head into town, try to find some leads of your own.”

The young man looked down at John, the kid counting his bills and probably trying to add them up. John suddenly perked up, apparently slow to register Dutch’s words in his head. “When?” The boy asked.

“How about right now?” Dutch replied. “This money has given us a good start for what we need, but we really need a lot more before winter hits.”

Arthur looked from Dutch, to the small dirty child, to Dutch again. He sighed. “Alright.” His attention back to John. “We leave in fifteen minutes, get cleaned up.”

John hopped to the ground, shoving the money in his pocket, having given up counting. He began to rush towards their tent, and Arthur at last noticed the kid was barefoot.

“Put some damn boots on too, John.”

The boy shouted back over his shoulder. “That weren’t my fault, you didn’t let me get ready!”

Arthur put a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, but he kept quiet. He followed after him into the tent, noticing all the bedding was gone from their cots. They _had_ been dirty. Next to him, John dug around for some clean clothes, apparently found some, and rushed back outside. Arthur couldn’t help but be annoyed and amused by the show of enthusiasm as he grabbed his repeater and some additional ammunition. 

Going back outside, he found his horse, giving Artemisia a quick brush down and realized he’d failed to remove her bridal in his fatigue. Arthur patted her on the neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t get that off you last night, Missy.” He muttered. “Won’t let that happen again.”

She huffed and flicked one ear back towards him.

Arthur pat her again then grabbed his saddle blanket and saddle, placing them on her back and cinching them up. He put his repeater in the saddle holster, then loaded some fresh supplies into the saddlebags. 

He returned to camp, going to the stream to wash up, finding John and Bessie there. The boy had put his fresh pants on, but was otherwise uncovered.

“You can’t go into town smelling worse than the pigs, John.” He overheard her say.

“So what?” He grumbled. “Who's gonna care?”

She sighed, speaking gently but firmly. “You want to go into town? You need to clean up.”

“I _was_ cleaning up. I just don’t like the water in my hair.” John finally noticed Arthur standing there. “Why don’t you make _Arthur_ clean up? He got just as dirty as me.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s why I came over here, John.”

Bessie smiled at him. “You always say you want to be more like Arthur, so how about you do like him and clean up?”

Immediately John went red in the face. “I ain’t ever said that. Why would I want to be like him?” He sputtered out far too quickly. 

The lady laughed. “I’m sorry for misunderstanding then. Just get yourself washed, okay?”

John groused a while longer but conceded. Bessie left them, giving them a modicum of privacy in the open space. In silence, they both washed up as best as they could, Arthur removed his shirt and wiped himself down with a rag, then put it back on after drying himself. It was a clean shirt, so it would be fine, he figured. Had he known they were going into town today, he would have bathed before getting dressed.

With that done, and John finally dressed _with_ boots on, the two of them made their way over to Artemisia, where the big roadster stood ready and waiting at the tree line.

“Hold up, one moment.” Hosea shouted behind them.

Turning, Arthur saw the man jog up to the two of them. “I’ll be going into town soon enough myself, I have already found a few things worth looking into. If you need to stay the night at the hotel for any reason, that should be okay. But if we don’t see you in a few days we’re going to come looking. Probably at the sheriff’s office.”

“I ain’t gonna get myself arrested so soon after arriving in a new town.” Arthur laughed.

Hosea shook his head. “You’ve said that before, Arthur.”

The young man scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah….”

“So just take it easy for now, get some simple information.” Then he got stern. “And no fights.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and groaned. “Understood, Hosea.”

Hosea turned his attention to John. “Don’t go pickpocketing, please.”

After a small delay “Fine.” The boy pouted and crossed his arms.

Hosea gave them a nod. “Good luck you two.”

“Thank you, Hosea.” Arthur replied.

“Thanks.” Said John.

With a wave, Hosea turned and walked back into camp.

Hosea gone, Arthur grabbed John under the arms and lifted him once again, putting the kid on the horse’s rump.

“Hey!” He shouted, no need to be quiet at this hour. “I can do it myself!”

Ignoring him, Arthur put his foot in a stirrup and pulled himself up into the saddle with practiced ease. “Tall horse. Small kid.” He said simply, feeling John grab him around the waist.

Taking hold of the reins he turned Artemisia towards the trail. With a quick nudge, he got the mare moving, off into the woods. A journey into town awaiting them.


	2. A Shining Jewel

It was a clear and beautiful morning. Cool, crisp air overtook John’s senses in the most pleasant way. The leaves had begun to turn already, not quite fall, but yellow was slowly creeping its way into the dense foliage around them. Had it not been for the cold, he figured fall would be his favorite season.

He held tight to Arthur, who had kept his horse at a smooth canter for the majority of the ride, John had yet to go into town, so he didn’t know the way, but it seemed as though his brother was keeping to smaller trails and keeping them away from the main road.

Arthur had remained silent nearly the whole time, every attempt from John to make a conversation simply ended with a grunt from Arthur. 

John’s excitement for the trip began to fade into frustration. Until finally, after a long break of silence, the kid snapped. “You said we’d talk about it in the morning.” He sputtered out suddenly.

The big man jolted ever so slightly from the unexpected outburst. Arthur looked back over his shoulder, something of a mix of a glare and confusion on his face. “What are you on about now, boy?”

“I . . .” he paused. “You were going to talk to me . . . about Lucy.”

“There’s not much more to be said, John.” He shook his head. “You’ll be over it eventually.”

John frowned, then narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so mean to me?”

He felt Arthur stiffen and grumble. “I am not - ” He stopped himself and started over. “Boy, you would _know_ when I’m being mean, you’ve seen it first hand.”

“Fine! But you sure ain’t being nice either.”

“And why _should_ I be nice to you?”

“Hosea and Dutch want us working together.”

“‘Working together,’ pfft.” He chuckled. “More like playing nursemaid. Besides, even if we were working together, that don’t mean I have to be ‘nice’ to you.” 

“Are you still mad at me for screwing up yesterday? I didn’t have a choice but to go into that mine!”

“What? No, John. We both know that tip Dutch got weren’t great.”

John cocked his head, Arthur hadn’t said that before. “Well, what is it then?”

Arthur huffed, not replying. Silence overtaking once more. John sighed loudly behind him. Hating how confusing his brother could be, but having no idea how to navigate it.

The trip continued and John simply gave up on sitting up straight, planting his cheek on Arthur’s back and sagging his weight onto the big man. Small as John was, this was probably barely noticeable to Arthur.

Time passed, and John could feel his stomach start to get angry, he hadn’t eaten since the night before. The two of them rushed out of camp so quickly.

Arthur must have been experiencing the same thing, he slowed the horse to an easy walk, then pulled something from his satchel. John couldn’t exactly see past his broad back, but he heard the sound of an opening tin and smelled something sweet.

Not at all subtle, he peeked around Arthur’s side, going under his brother’s left arm to look. “You got biscuits?”

“Christ alive, Marston.” Arthur startled, lifting his arm up further so he wouldn’t accidently hit the kid. “What are you doing?”

John frowned, stomach growling louder. “I’m hungry.”

Arthur let loose a noise, somewhere between a growl and sigh, then shoved the whole tin of biscuits towards him. “Fine.”

John took the tin greedily, pulling himself away from the strange position and sitting up straight, digging his little hand into the container and pulling out the remaining biscuits, then tossed the container into the grass. There were seven left, and John frowned further. After stuffing his face with them all, he asked Arthur another question, food still in his mouth, “What happened to the rest, did you eat them?”

Arthur quickly looked over his shoulder again. “God damn it John, did you just eat all of them?”

John recoiled, swallowing. “Uh . . . yeah?”

Arthur groaned. “I should have known better. Now I don’t got nothing left for _me_ to eat.”

John paled, a hungry Arthur was a grumpy Arthur. Grumpier than usual at least. “Oh . . . I thought you had umm . . . taken some already.”

“Well I didn’t.” Arthur spat back.

“Sorry.” John replied quickly. The kid fumbled for his canteen, one of the few things he’d remembered to bring, thirsty from the dry biscuits.

“Guess I’ll buy something in town. Whenever the hell we get there.” Arthur turned his full attention forward again, encouraging Artemisia back to a canter.

A few minutes later John hesitantly tapped his brother on the shoulder.

He didn’t bother glancing back. “What is it now, John? I already told you I have no more food.”

“Not food.” John shook his head, despite Arthur not looking at him. “I need to pee.”

“For Christ’s sake, John.” Arthur groaned. “Didn’t you go before we headed out? We ain’t ever gonna get to Jewel at this rate.”

“I did go! But I just drank all my water.”

Now Arthur turned. “All of it? All of your canteen? Are you an idiot?” He paused. “Don’t answer that. I already know.”

“Those biscuits were dry! That ain’t my fault.”

“Nobody told you to eat _ALL_ of them, Marston!”

“I was hungry.” John pouted.

“So am I.” Arthur groused, finally slowing the horse down again, all the way to a stop. “Now hurry up. Don’t get yourself bitten by a snake or eaten by a cougar.”

John clumsily shifted himself on the horse’s back, managing to slide off her rump before Arthur could help him down, stumbling and nearly falling face first as his feet hit the ground. But he did manage to stay standing. 

The kid heard Arthur laughing as he rushed off into the woods, finding some bushes a good distance from the road to do his business. When that was taken care of, he walked back, giving himself a moment to take in the scenery, which he had not bothered to do in his rush. Enjoying the sound of crunching leaves and sticks beneath his feet.

“What is taking you so long?!” He heard Arthur shout from the road. “Hurry on up!”

John grumbled to himself and rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right there, relax!” As he took off to run, he immediately tripped on a root he’d not noticed, falling hard onto his front. A breathy grunt escaped John as the air was knocked out of him. He groaned and got his hands under him, pushing himself up and shaking his head.

It was then that a glint caught his eye. There was something very shiny on the ground right in front of him. Curious, on his hands and knees he approached the object, brushing dirt and leaves from it. With it finally fully visible he gasped, then shouted. “ _Holy shit!_ ”

Distantly he heard Arthur call out. “You okay, John?”

But he was far too mesmerized to reply, or even register the words. He perched himself up on his knees, picking up the shiny object, a large clear jewel of some kind, embedded in an ornate broken chunk of silver.

The sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs grew louder until suddenly Arthur was beside him, repeater in hand. “John, are you hurt?” He knelt down next to the kid. “You didn’t actually get bit by a snake, did you?”

John tore his eyes away from the pretty piece of jewelry, surprised to see Arthur there, the man totally unable to hide the worry in his expression. “Huh?” John uttered dumbly. “No, I’m fine. I just tripped is all.”

The worry was gone in an instance. Hard expression once again. “Shit, Marston.” He grumbled, slinging the repeater over his shoulder. “Why didn’t you say something when I called for you?” 

John held up the clear jewel. “I found this!” He explained, excitement in his voice.

Arthur gave the gem a double take. “What the hell?” He went to take it from John’s hands.

But John recoiled and brought the jewel to his chest, holding it away from Arthur. “No, _I_ found it, it’s _mine_!”

With a sigh and an eye roll, Arthur reached for John’s wrist, easily prying the kid’s arm away from his chest. John struggled against the large hand on his arm, but they’d gone through this song and dance before. There had been plenty of things John had taken from his older brother, only to immediately get taken back. John didn’t come close to the strength of the twenty-four year old. Arthur was ten years his senior and easily twice his size. But pride and stubbornness meant John would always fight back, even if it _was_ futile. 

Soon enough Arthur had pulled the valuable from John’s hand, looking it over and turning it every which direction. He gave a low whistle in admiration. “Where was this?”

With Arthur distracted by the shiny jewel, John lunged for it. But Arthur was quicker, pulling his arm out of John’s reaching, and holding him at bay with his free hand. “Just give it back already!” John hollered.

“Stop screaming for christ’s sake. Are you gonna answer my question or not?”

John pouted and tried to push himself closer. “I just found it on the ground right here.”

Arthur took a moment to look away and take in the nearby area. Using the opportunity, John lunged again. But Arthur merely pushed him back once more and stood to his full height. John quickly followed, stumbling to his feet. The young man simply raised his arm up, well above his head, and far out of his little brother’s reach.

John jumped for it a few times. Then with a defeated groan, he gave up. “But it’s mine, Arthur.” He pleaded.

Arthur ignored him. “Look around for any more pieces of it, this looks like it was broken off from something else.”

John sighed, but had no choice but to comply. He wasn’t going to get the jewel back by fighting him. Over six feet tall like Arthur was, John did not stand a chance in any regard. Maybe some day. Maybe. John could take solace in the fact that he too would grow up eventually. But for now, the kid took to looking around the surrounding area.

Arthur did the same, apparently pocketing the valuable when John had not been focused on it. They rooted around the area for a bit, finding not much of anything other than sticks, rocks, leaves, and bugs.

Until finally Arthur pulled something from a bush. “Another piece, smaller.”

John scurried over to look, inlaid in silver was a jewel of the same color, but indeed of a significantly smaller scale. “Wonder what happened to the rest of it?” The kid mused. “What was it to begin with?”

Arthur shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest. Other than it being a couple busted chunks of something bigger.” He held the two pieces close together. “Too heavy for earrings most like, don’t think it’s a brooch. Maybe from a bracelet, or a necklace.”

“What should we do with them?”

“Keep looking.” Arthur replied, then pulled out his pocket watch and took a glance. “Few more minutes at least, but we need to get back to the trail soon. Doubt anything will come of this.”

John nodded begrudgingly. Grumbling at his loss as they scoured the area for any more pieces. Finding none, and no signs of any other pieces of jewelry, whole or not.

Arthur called out to him. “We’ve wasted enough time on this. Now come on, time to get moving. Ain’t nothing else to be found.”

John nodded and mumbled. “Okay.”

Arthur shook his head and turned.

The kid quickly followed behind him and back to Artemisia, waiting off the side of the road. 

The big horse was eating fresh grass at her hooves. He heard Arthur sigh and chuckle. “Head up, Missy.” He said to her. “You’re going to mess up your bit something fierce at this rate.”

Artemisia lifted her head as she was commanded, but not before one final big bite of grass, which she seemed to almost haughtily chomp on in a show of defiance.

Arthur gave her a pat before turning back to John, who had just reached his side. He lifted the boy up onto the horse once again.

“God damn it.” The kid muttered in the smallest whisper possible.

Arthur hauled himself up into the saddle in front of him. “What was that?” He asked, putting the tiniest bit of menace into his voice.

“Nothing . . .” John replied, grabbing Arthur around the waist again, holding on tightly as they took off down the road.

–»»»•«««–

Arthur quickly guided his horse to the side of the road as a stagecoach crested the hill just in front of them, barely managing to avoid the big wagon as it barreled down the road. 

“Watch it, moron!” He hollered after the driver and whatever wealthy fools were inside insisting on such a quick ride.

“Christ.” He heard John exclaim behind him, squeezing Arthur tighter for just a moment as the surprise hit him.

Moving Artemisia back to the dirt path, they continued up the hill, not much longer and they rounded the bend that revealed their destination to them. Nestled in a forest of evergreens and gradually yellowing deciduous trees was the quiet town of Jewel. The sun shining brightly down on them, it was pristine as a painting, with the mountains rising up into the sky in the distance beyond the buildings, the structures themselves well maintained and sound. Arthur pulled the pocket watch from his vest to check the time, they’d made it to Jewel at just before noon. Though looking up at the sun nearly directly above them could have told him that.

At his back, he felt John shuffle around, then finally peak up over his shoulder. “Is this the town?”

Arthur turned his head slightly and gave the boy a side eye. “No, John. This ain’t the town. I took us the complete wrong way.”

“ _You did?”_ John exclaimed.

“ _No!”_ Arthur returned. “Of _course_ this is the town.”

John slumped back down behind him, returning to a sit. Saying nothing.

Making their way into the town itself, the somewhat muddy streets were busy with people going about their business. They passed the stable on their way towards the main grouping of buildings. Arthur couldn’t help but look at the horses, and neither could John, apparently. He noticed the kid eyeing the animals out in their pasture with sadness and longing unhidden in his expression. John glanced over to see Arthur staring at him and immediately turned away from the horses, huffing.

The young man frowned and couldn’t help but sigh. Soon they made it past the butcher, then the saloon, the barber, the general store, a few other businesses. Finally Arthur stopped his horse outside the gunsmith, sliding out of the saddle and hitching her at the closest open post. John was busy taking in the sights and almost didn’t notice Arthur reach for him. But Arthur stopped himself and folded his arms instead. “Come on then, John.”

“Huh?” The kid replied.

Arthur simply cocked a brow at him.

Something must have clicked in the boy’s mind. “Oh!” John slid forward and lifted himself into the saddle, the stirrups comically low for the boy’s much shorter legs. He managed to get slide down one side far enough for his foot to reach a stirrup, then used that support to bring the other leg down to the ground, Arthur couldn’t help but hold his hand near the boy’s back in case he managed to slip or fall. But when John safely had both feet planted on the ground, Arthur quickly returned to folded arms before the kid could notice. 

“What are we going to do first?” John asked, looking all around.

Arthur jutted a thumb towards the gunsmith. “Going to get you a new knife.”

John looked back and forth between the door and Arthur standing in front of him. “ _Really?”_ He asked, excited, eyes lighting up.

“Yes, really.” Arthur replied, having a hard time holding back a smile at John’s excitement.

John bounded up the steps to the gunsmith, then stopped himself just outside the door, turning and waiting for Arthur to take the lead.

Arthur obliged him, moving to the door and going inside first, John trailing behind him, right at his heels.

Inside, there were display cases and racks of weapons, shotguns on one wall, rifles on another, inside the main counter all the revolvers and pistols were displayed behind glass. 

There were two other men inside, looking through a catalogue and talking amongst themselves.

The owner perked up at their entrance, calling out to them, an accented voice, Scottish it seemed. “Hello there gentlemen, what can I do for you?” 

Arthur replied. “Need a hunting knife, kid here lost his the other day.”

The clerk looked down towards John, who was currently staring at a very fine revolver in the main counter, face and hands pressed up against the glass. The man gave a small chuckle. “I can do that for you, what did you have in mind, something smaller for the wee lad?”

Arthur noticed John prickle at that, boy never did much care for being called little. “Nah, I imagine a standard size would be fine.”

The man nodded. “Let me bring up a few for you two to look at.”

“Thanks, mister.” He replied, then went and joined John at the display case, crouching down next to him. “Whatchu looking at?”

John glanced over and then back to the revolver. “Ain’t that a pretty gun?” The kid said, tapping the glass over a double action revolver, some kind of steel, beautifully inlaid with silver, and a nicely polished pearl grip.

Arthur had to agree. “Yeah, it’s nice.” Then he looked at John. “You already got a gun though, kid. And that thing can’t be cheap.”

John sighed and stood up. “Yeah . . . but I just got some money, and that revolver is so nice.” 

“You don’t get money often, how about you wait on that.” Arthur stood too. “You should really focus on getting things you absolutely need first, John.”

“Alright.” He said after a pause, taking a moment to stare longingly at the gun.

“Maybe you should buy a box of ammunition for the gun you already have, seeing as how you ran out and never did reload it.”

John snapped his head up to look at Arthur. “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t really, but you just confirmed it. Last time you reloaded that gun and put bullets in your belt, you took from my stock.” Arthur laughed. “By now I know you well enough to assume what that meant.”

“Yeah . . . well . . . I didn’t have any money. And you don’t like it when I ask you for things.”

Arthur frowned again as John looked away towards the revolver. “John. Something important like that, you know you can ask me-”

He was interrupted by the return of the clerk, setting six knives in leather sheaths on the counter. “Here we are, a good variety, feel free to take a look.”

John perked up, immediately grabbing one knife with some kind of dark wood for the handle and pulling it from the sheath. A very typical hunting knife, only one side sharp, the false edge remained flat. John glanced up at Arthur, probably looking for a reaction. But Arthur wasn’t going to tell John which knife to pick, not even subtly. So he kept his face neutral.

The kid must have realized, moving onto another knife, this one a clip point, and _very_ sharp looking. John seemed to like that, looking at it longer than the first.

The next knife was rather large, it was unwieldy in his hand, and even John had to have realized how bad that could end up being for him, so he put it down after not much thought.

He gave them all a good once over before he returned to the clip point. “I like this one the best.”

The clerk nodded. “That one’ll be good for skinning and dressing with that sharp point there. It’s also the best for quick stabbing, but that point is going to be weaker than other knives. But a kid like you shouldn’t be doing too much that could cause it to break I would assume.”

Arthur almost snorted, if only this man knew.

John played dumb and nodded along, reaching into his pocket for money. “I like the sounds of that, how much?”

Arthur quickly waved him off. “Don’t you go worrying about price, I’ll buy it for you.”

The kid turned and looked at him in shock. “You will?”

“Yeah, you need it. And I have more money than you after all.”

He watched with amusement as John grimaced slightly from that. 

Arthur went about paying the clerk for the knife and handing it off to John, who eagerly removed the old sheath from his battered hand-me-down gun belt and put the new knife in its place.

Not quite done with business, Arthur looked over to see the two men had finished looking through the catalogue, so he took the opportunity to go through it himself, calling John over. “You need ammunition, kid. Let’s find it in here.”

John nodded, staring intently at the pages as Arthur flipped through them.

“But, I ain’t paying for it.” He added.

“Yeah, alright.” John replied, not daring to fight him.

Finding the correct section, he moved the book over to John. “Which one?”

The kid frowned. “Don’t you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why-”

“So you’ll know too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Still new to reading, John was slow. So as his little brother studied the page, Arthur began to take notice of the two men again. They seemed to be deep in a conversation, over by the rack of shotguns. Arthur turned himself slightly so he could watch from the corner of his eye.

“It’s a damn shame.” One of them said.

“Where the hell did it happen?” The other replied.

“Don’t really know, the sheriff ain’t saying much.”

“He put up a bounty or anything?”

“Not as far as I know. Might have heard something about a reward from someone else. But what would the sheriff write up there? Ain’t a soul who knows anything outside the person who done it.”

The second one grabbed a shotgun and looked down the barrel. “Maybe them rich fools had it coming.”

The other shook his head. “Maybe.”

John finally spoke up. “Found it!” He proclaimed, loudly. Arthur saw the two men look over suddenly at the surprise outburst.

Arthur put his full attention back on John, the kid tapping vigorously on the page, having correctly found the ammunition he needed. “Yeah, that’s the one.” Arthur confirmed. “Now go buy some.”

John nodded, taking the book to the shop owner and showing him the box of bullets he needed.

“Better get more than one, John.” Arthur called over. “We need to do some shooting practice soon and I don’t want you using my stock for that again neither.”

John looked over at him, beaming. Arthur wasn’t surprised, that was almost always his reaction. The kid took to shooting like a bee to honey, even if he was lousy at it.

After a painfully long wait for John to figure out exact change for the purchase, he took his three boxes of bullets from the counter and returned to Arthur. “Alright, I’m ready.” He said.

“I can see that. And where are you going to put those?”

“Uhhh . . .” John glanced around uselessly, eyes finally landing back on Arthur. “Can you hold onto them?” 

“No.”

John frowned. “Then what am I supposed to do with all these bullets?”

Arthur laughed. “Reload that revolver of yours, for one.”

The boy went red in the face. Blushing from embarrassment or frustration, who knew. Probably both. “I knew that - I was going to.” He stammered out, flustered.

Arthur crossed his arms and snorted. “Sure you were, kid.”

Quickly putting the boxes down, John pulled one open and grabbed a handful of bullets, loading them one by one into the cylinder. He was trying to go too fast, which ended up making him take longer because of all his fumbling. Once he snapped the gun closed, fully loaded, he shoved it back into his holster.

The young man watched the display and did his best not to laugh. “Okay, now I’ll hold onto them for you.”

John sputtered some words out as a reaction “Wait - but you said -”

Arthur gestured the kid closer, cutting him off. “Come on then, hand them over.”

He begrudgingly approached, giving the boxes to Arthur, who put one into his satchel and held the rest in one hand. “We’ll deal with putting bullets in your gun belt later. We should get a move on.”

John nodded. “What are we doing next?”

With his free hand, Arthur pointed casually to the door. “Going outside.” 

John frowned again. “You know what I meant.”

He made his way towards the exit. “I’m going to find something to eat, I don’t know about you.”

He heard John scurry after him, “Where at? The general store? The saloon? Is there a restaurant here? I haven’t been in a restaurant in ages.”

Pushing the door open, Arthur walked down the steps and approached Artemisia still hitched outside. He put the other two boxes in her saddlebag, then turned to face John, now at his side. “I’m going into the saloon, Johnny. You figure something out for yourself.”

“Like what? You just abandoning me for the day again? I thought you was supposed to be -”

Arthur put a hand on John’s shoulder, silencing him. He leaned in close, speaking quiet. 

“Enough of that. You forget what we’re doing here? Get information, you’re good at that. I’ll be doing the same thing in the saloon, always something to learn there.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing anyway. What Dutch wanted. I’m not abandoning you here, we need to split up to gather information quicker.”

“Okay, I can . . . “ The kid looked around the area quickly, then back to Arthur. “I’ll find something.”

Arthur pat him on the shoulder, standing back up and releasing him. “Alright. Plan to meet back here around five.”

John nodded, an evil little grin appearing on his face. “Just you watch, I’m going to find out so much more than you.”

Arthur returned the grin with a smug smirk of his own. “Oh, will you now? I doubt that.”

“You’ll see, Arthur!” John said, turning and running off down the muddy street.

Watching him go, the smirk turned into a full on smile, after a moment Arthur shook himself out of it. He scanned the buildings, locating the one he was looking for. Making his way towards the saloon, he exhaled a sigh of relief. God damn, was he hungry. 

And worried. 

He hoped to whatever god was listening that those men in the gunsmith hadn’t been talking about the previous night’s robbery, hoped nobody had actually seen what happened. It had already been a big enough disaster, they didn’t need the local law potentially on their asses too.

Thoughts racing, he waited for a carriage to pass by. The path clear again, Arthur walked up the steps to the batwing doors and pushed his way in. A decent number of patrons despite the time of day. A few looked up from their drinks and conversations to see the new arrival. Arthur was used to stares at this point, as big as he’d ended up. He stood out like a sore thumb in unfamiliar environments.

He found his way to the bar, resisting the urge to get a few whiskies, he ordered the most expensive meal on the menu. Steak and vegetables. Knowing himself, and how hungry he was, he probably would have to order another plate of food when he was done.

As he waited for the meal to arrive, he turned and leaned back against the bar, subtly observing, and listening intently.

There was a raucous game of poker going on in the corner, seemed to be a high stakes game, a lot of chips on the table. There was a server coming and going with a near constant stream of drinks, a few women sitting on the men’s laps or leaned in real close, talking them up.

Eventually, one such woman came up to Arthur in an attempt to solicit him. Another thing he was used to, being the fresh meat in a new town. “Hey there, big man. How about we get out of here and go have some fun?”

“Naw, I’m good, thank you.” Arthur replied politely. Among all the dozens of things he had to keep track of – getting information, keeping John safe, finally eating food, and so on – a roll in the sack with someone he didn’t know was not exactly what he needed at the moment or ever really wanted.

“Oh I see, you’re a shy one. I think that’s sweet.” She gave him a wink. “But I’ll be around if you ever change your mind.” 

As she sashayed away, the bartender finally delivered the meal to him. The food looked good, and smelled good too. Holding himself back from scarfing it down then and there, he went and found himself an empty table within spitting distance of the poker game.

Arthur ate at a slow, polite pace, as much as he wanted to do otherwise. He figured looking preoccupied with a meal made him less suspicious for listening in on whatever was being said around him.

Immediately from the poker table there was a collective groan and then shouting. One man howling with laughter over the top of it all.

“God damn it, Jimmy, how did _you_ win?”

“There’s no way you had that kind of luck three rounds in a row, you cheated didn’t you?”

Glancing over, the apparent winner, Jimmy, dragged nearly the whole table’s worth of chips to his corner. “I wouldn’t _dream_ of cheating around you boys, none of you are dumb enough.”

The other men visibly deflated, seemingly satisfied with the answer and apparent praise of their intelligence.

Arthur nearly snorted. Definitely cheating.

Jimmy collected his winnings, smug smile on his gaunt, wrinkled face. The others paid up without much fuss other than playful ribbings. With the poker game over, it was quieter in the saloon.

Now he could better hear the various drunks around him, some obviously talking out their asses and boasting about nonsense. Some, saying a few things that seemed just real enough to be true.

Something off about the general store recently. Was it the prices? He’d seen those signs on the barrels outside the shop, apples nearly double what he had seen in other nearby towns.

A few men getting bad vibes from the barber. Glancing over at the drunks spouting that, he had to wonder if it was just bad haircuts.

Some man complaining about a cheating wife, or was it the man was cheating on his wife?

The sheriff not to be trusted. But then, Arthur never trusted a sheriff, considering his livelihood.

The last thing was a rich girl had gone missing. Or was she murdered? Or did she run off with some dashing rouge who’d swept her off her feet. Arthur huffed to himself, probably not.

Done with his food, Arthur stood from the table. Still hungry, but he’d live. He figured he’d gathered enough initial leads. Seemed things were messy in Jewel. Very messy. But that was good for an outlaw like him, there’d be a lot to find, and a lot of mischief to get up to. And a lot of ways out.

–»»»•«««–

It wasn’t a very big town, all things considered. John had been in vast cities, once lived in the streets of Chicago. But, compared to some of the dust ridden, dingy little towns he’d traveled to with this new family, Jewel was pleasant. How the buildings looked so pristine, he had no idea. But John figured he had no idea about a lot of things. And why bother to figure _this_ one out.

What he did need to figure out, was where the hell to begin.

He had stopped running just before the tailor. Making him think for a second how lucky it was for a smaller town to even have one. John put the thought aside, the way he looked – his hair a mess, clothes either a bit too small, or hand me downs from Arthur and far too big. He wouldn’t be getting into the tailor without some amount of suspicion. John been thrown out of enough establishments to know at a glance which ones would even let him in on his own. Having one of the adults with him made that easier.

But here he was alone, so he kept looking. John glanced over his shoulder to see Arthur saunter his way into the saloon. Clearly his brother had that one covered. Drunks were usually a pool of information, tongues loosened up by the alcohol, so long as they weren’t spewing bullshit and actually telling the truth.

Running around like a fool wasn’t going to get him anything, so he found an empty bench just outside the hotel and took a seat, taking in the people and the sights.

A few carriages and wagons slowly passed through or stopped along the way for the local shops, people on horseback making their way in and out of town. Quiet, but busy, this town was.

In the hotel behind him, he heard the usual ruckus, nothing of value there. Across the street the butcher hollered out to the people passing by, hoping to sell his meat and hides.

Notably, he saw a man get shoved from the doorway of a building further down the street, closer to the saloon. A quick glance up and John saw the familiar word “sheriff.” He watched the man stumble around for a while before apparently finding his way into an alley and disappearing from sight.

The next building over from the hotel, a kid stepped outside, a big bundle of newspapers in his arms, neatly stacked and all in order. Removing one from the top, he stood at the corner near the main street and the road leaving town, raising the paper and beginning to shout for attention, competing even with the noisy butcher.

A newsie. Perfect.

John made his way across the boardwalk towards the newsboy, hopping down the steps to stand next to him, he offered up a quarter he’d received that morning. “I’ll take one.”

The kid gave John a quick double take, then grinned. “Thanks, here you go.” He took the coin and slapped the paper into John’s hands, pulling another from his pile and starting up the same shouting as before.

John sat down on the steps beside the newsie, looking at the front cover, taking in the words slowly, but surely. The headline story was something about Denver. That wouldn’t do him any good for this small town, so he flipped it open, looking through the rest. A murder in Bolder, a new railway, livestock prices. A bunch of useless information. At least for him.

Next to him, the kid had stopped shouting and gave a little laugh. “I’m surprised you can read. Thought you was buying that for your pa.”

John looked up and stared at him. “Yeah? Well I bought it for me. And ain’t you late getting out here and selling? I thought you newsboys was supposed to be out in the mornings.”

“I took a break. Usually my sister takes my place but she’s sick today. So relax. I didn’t mean nothing by it.”

“Sorry.” John grumbled. With his cheeks getting red, he was glad he could stare at the paper. 

“Ain’t seen you ‘round here before. Where you come from?” Apparently nonplussed by John’s little outburst.

“Oh, I uh, travel a lot, ain’t from any one place in particular.”

“Must be fun. I ain’t seen much yet beyond this town, but hope to one day.”

John perked up, the newspaper may have been useless so far, but that wasn’t the only reason he’d come to talk to this kid. “You real familiar with this town, then?”

The newsie gave him a knowing look and grinned again. “More so than most folks, I’d say. Why?”

“Just thought I’d ask about what goes on around here, me and my family, we’ll probably be sticking around for a little while.”

“Okay, well . . . what do you _really_ want to know?”

John looked the kid over, giving him a stern look. Or as stern a look as a fourteen year old could manage. “I think you get where I’m coming from.”

“I suppose I do, but what am _I_ getting out of telling you?

John smirked, pulling out two silver dollars. He handed one off to the kid. “Tell me something good and you get the second one.”

Pocketing the money, he looked away from John as he spoke. “Three recent things that may be of value to you. One with the sheriff, one with a local wealthy family, and the last having to do with the owner of the general store.”

John perked up. “Alright.” John thought for a moment. “Tell me about the sheriff.”

“He’s been seen a few times talking with some shady looking folks. Some . . . gang, people think.”

“Is that it?” John asked, irritated.

“For what you’re paying me. Besides, don’t know anything else anyway. Not much known about that one, but it might be the kind of thing you’d like to look into.”

John gave him the second dollar, then pulled out another and tossed it over. “The general store?”

“Similar to the sheriff, got some questionable business dealings going on.”

“Like what?”

“Smuggling maybe? I couldn’t tell you.”

“Couldn’t tell me? Telling me is the whole point. You’re not very good at this, kid.”

“Don’t be calling me kid, kid.” The newsie laughed. “Maybe I’m just as good at it as I need to be. You _been_ paying me, after all.”

John sighed. He had to give him that. “Least you’ve given me something to work with.”

“What about that last one?”

He shook his head, pulling out one more dollar. “Fine. What is it?”

“Appleton Estate, close to town. The lady of the family gone missing real recently. Her fiancé is all kinds of worried about her. Has a reward out for her safe return. Might be worth looking into for that big reward.”

“This town ain’t so pleasant after all, is it?”

“I suppose not, but you the one who’s gone and traveled all around, you tell me if this is normal or not.”

John laughed again. “I like you.”

“Name’s William.”

“John.”

“Good to meet you, Johnny boy. I’ll let you know if I learn anything new next time I see you.” Then he smiled. “For a price, of course.”

“Of course.” John replied, giving a little wave. As he went to turn, he heard loud footfalls coming closer across the boardwalk, looking up he saw Arthur’s large figure approach. “Arthur?” He said, surprised by his sudden appearance.

His face showed nothing but excitement. “We got work to do, John.”


	3. Keen Observations

Arthur pushed the door to the hotel open, John hot on his heels. The clerk looked up from his newspaper, quickly setting it down and greeting the two of them. “Hello, gentlemen! What can I do for you?”

“Need a room for the night, you got any available?”

The clerk nodded. “Of course, got a few.” He gestured to the keys hanging from hooks behind him.

Arthur took a quick glance at them, then back to the man. “You got any rooms away from other folks? I’m a light sleeper.”

He nodded. “I can do that for you, Room 201.” The clerk retrieved the key and placed it on the counter. “That’ll be a dollar for the night. And your name?”

“Arthur.” The young man replied, putting the money on the counter.

The clerk made a note in his ledger, then gave them a nod. Taking the key, Arthur headed up the stairs, John in tow. He quickly found the room and unlocked the door. Inside it was fairly basic, but it was nice enough. An armoire, one wooden chair, a decent sized bed, side table, chest of drawers, and two north facing windows currently covered by cloth curtains.

John made his way over to the window, pulling back the fabric a bit and peaking out. “You’ve never complained about being a light sleeper before, what was that about?”

Arthur walked up behind him, pulling the curtain away further. He took in the view of the street. People, horses, and just on the other side, the general store. “So we can talk without being overheard. You’re not the quietest, you know.” He replied, letting go of the fabric. The young man turned and found the wooden chair, sitting down and lighting up a cigarette.

John huffed. “I know how to be quiet when I have to be.”

“I’ve yet to see that, you loudmouth.”

“Stop trying to rile me up, you’re just trying to make me prove your point.”

Arthur grinned, keeping the cigarette in place with his teeth. “You caught me.”

The kid huffed for a second time, quickly changing the subject. “Can I get one of them?” John gestured towards the pack.

Arthur rolled his eyes, smacking one out and handing it over. “Now you’re proving my point about always taking my stuff.”

“You know I don’t get money very often, Arthur.” John pouted.

The young man tossed him the matches, shrugging. “You got money today, you can get cigarettes here in town.”

“I will!” John replied. “But I thought you wanted to go over what we learned.”

Arthur nodded. “This town is a big mess. Got a lot of interesting stuff, I’m sure Hosea and Dutch’ll be happy to hear about, and sounds like you got some good things out of that newsie. But we should figure out which thing to look into first before Hosea comes to town, the more we can tell him the better.”

John sat down on the edge of the bed, taking a drag from the cigarette. “We gonna eat after this?”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Yes, John. We’ll eat after this.”

The kid frowned. “What? I’m hungry! It’s a serious question.”

“You should eat more and stop being so picky. You’re always hungry.”

“So are you!”

“I’m twice as big as you.” Arthur scoffed, blowing out smoke. “And I do a lot more heavy lifting.”

“Well Bessie says you were the same way when they found you. Hungry all the time.”

He sighed. “Fine, fine. Are you going to be able to focus on an empty stomach for now?”

“Yeah . . .” John replied.

“Okay then, tell me what you got.”

The kid began recounting everything he’d heard and observed, but when he got to speaking about the sheriff, Arthur stopped him. “The law been doing dealings with some gang?”

John shrugged. “That’s what that William kid told me. Why? You think he’s full of shit?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, no. I heard something about the sheriff too. Some people don’t seem to trust him around here. There might be some merit to what he’s told you.”

“So what’re you thinking?”

“I say we look into what’s going on with him first. The other stuff can wait. But the law is always going to be an obstacle in town when we’re trying to pull off good, successful schemes. Out of everything, Hosea and Dutch are gonna want to know about this most of all I bet.”

The kid took one final drag of his cigarette before standing and smothering it in the side table ashtray. “Well, shouldn’t we go over what you heard?”

Arthur stood too. “Nothing that you didn’t already hear about, other than a weird barber and a very obvious card shark in the saloon.”

John scratched his head. “I don’t trust barbers.”

“I know, John.” Arthur walked up and ruffled the kid’s hair. “That’s why you have this mess.”

John flailed and pushed himself away. “Hey! I like my hair long.”

“If you ever manage to grow a beard, boy, you’re going to have to learn to use a pair of scissors, _and_ a razor.”

The kid puffed up. “Just watch, I’m gonna grow a better beard than you ever could.”

Arthur grinned widely again. “I hope I live to see that.” He turned John towards the door. “Now come on, let’s go get some food and see what we can find out about the sheriff.”

He _had_ just eaten, but it really hadn’t been enough. So Arthur didn’t mind going and getting food at all. They made their way back to the saloon, giving them the chance to test the waters on whether or not John would be allowed in. Some places didn’t mind, others did.

But, as Arthur entered through the batwing doors, John at his side, all they received was a quick glance and greeting nod from the bartender. Not a word about the kid.

They ordered their food, John made a point of paying for his own. Having been happy with the last plate of food he’d gotten, Arthur ordered the same thing as before. Apparently remembering this, the bartender gave him a knowing look. Arthur only shrugged. John wanted the stew, but picked at it and ate so few bites, Arthur wasn’t sure the kid was as hungry as he claimed.

Only half his stew eaten, John stopped, kicking his legs in the chair, waiting for Arthur to finish his own food, and staring a little too hard at his potatoes

“I’m not sharing, kid.”

John’s eyes snapped upwards. “I wasn’t going to ask you to!”

“Your eyes sure did.”

“I’m not allowed to look at your food?”

“Relax, I’m needling you.”

“You’re always ‘needling’ me.” John crossed his arms and sat back in the chair.

“Don’t get all pouty.” Arthur replied, pushing the plate towards John. “You can have it. I didn’t eat all that long ago, so I’m fine.” He paused a moment. “Well, just give me the rest of that stew and we’ll be even.”

John gave him a skeptical look for only a moment before he leaned forward and snatched the potato. “You sure went back on your word fast.”

Arthur shrugged, pulling the stew bowl towards himself. “Like I said, I was only teasing.”

The kid didn’t take much more convincing, eating the potato far faster than the stew.

Finishing up his food, and the rest of John’s stew, Arthur left a tip with the bartender before leaving. The sheriff’s office was across the street, about three buildings down from the hotel they were staying at. He looked further down the street towards the gunsmith, seeing his horse still stood patiently. “Shit.” He muttered, then looked down at John. “I’m gonna grab Missy and hitch her in front of the hotel, in case we need to get out of here quickly tonight for whatever reason. You stay here, keep an eye out on the sheriff. Maybe you’ll see something.”

John nodded, already looking around for a nondescript place to post out.

“It ain’t gonna take long.” Arthur said. “Few minutes.”

There were still a lot of time left in the day to observe the regular comings and goings of this town. Even with the days gradually getting shorter this time of year, there were still a good few hours before sundown.

Reaching Artemisia, he did a quick check of her saddlebags, seeing that nothing was missing. He never kept anything of major value in her bags, but still, John had used his own money to buy those bullets he’d put in there. It would bum the kid out to have them stolen. With his once over complete, Arthur unhitched the big horse and lead her down the street.

When he had her secured in front of the hotel she huffed at him, clearly bored of just standing around all day.

He pat her neck. “Sorry girl.” He muttered softly. “We might be here in town a few days, I’ll try to get you on a good run tomorrow though.”

Artemisia snorted, shuffling impatiently before standing still again.

Arthur gave her another pat for good measure, then returned to where he’d left John. Or where he _thought_ he’d left John. He looked around, the tiniest bit of worry beginning to bubble, growing steadily the longer he couldn’t find the kid. He wasn’t on the bench nearby. Arthur looked up the street towards that William kid, not there either. Or down the other end of the street. Maybe he’d gone to the stable, Arthur considered. Or maybe he’d followed someone and gotten into trouble. It’d only been a few minutes but John was an expert at getting himself into unnecessary danger.

Taking one more look around the immediate area, Arthur took a quick peek down the nearby alley between the saloon and some sort of farm supply shop.

He let out a sigh of relief, finally seeing the little shit, crouched by a slumped over person. Then the relief was gone, and Arthur was concerned again. “ _John_.” Arthur barked. “What are you doing?”

The kid jumped at the sound of his name, standing up and looking back. “Arthur, come here!”

So, despite himself, he did. Wordlessly Arthur approached, stopping next to John, arms folded, he waited for an explanation.

John seemed to understand his silent command. “I think I saw this man get thrown out of the sheriff’s office earlier today, before I talked to William.”

Arthur looked between the man and John a few times, cold eyes finally settling back on John. “How you think that’s important?”

The kid shrugged. “I dunno, but if this sheriff is as corrupt as people seem to think, maybe this man didn’t do anything, or maybe he knows something, or - ”

“Or maybe he’s just a drunk,” Arthur interrupted, “who got too rowdy in the saloon last night and got dragged to jail.”

John deflated slightly. “ . . . Maybe.” He repeated

Arthur finally looked back to the man, crouching down next to him to get a better view of his face, surprised by how beat up the man appeared. Nose freshly broken, one black eye, face and arms bruised and cut up. Must have been some brawl he’d gotten himself into. Then he looked closer at the man’s features. Long face, cleft chin, cheeks gaunt. He seemed to be late 20s, with thin eyebrows, and wispy brown hair reaching just above the neck, he had a bit of beard stubble, probably shaved recently. Committing this all to memory, Arthur stood back up. “If he’s important we’ll find him again.” 

John nodded. “If you’re sure about it . . .”

Arthur shrugged. “This man needs a doctor more than he needs us harassing him.”

“Should we take him to one?”

“Since when did you care about the health of strangers, boy? Let him sleep it off for now, he can get there himself when he wakes up. Besides, we don’t really know if he’s dangerous or not.”

The kid sighed. “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right.”

“Course I’m right.” Arthur replied.

John gave another nod before turning his back on the man and leaving the alley.

Arthur joined him where they’d split up a few minutes ago. Nobody was immediately nearby, but he kept his voice low regardless. “So I’m thinking I’ll go in, acting as a new in town kid, asking around for work or whatnot.”

“What am I gonna do?” John asked.

The young man paused. “I don’t think it would be good for us to be seen together by the sheriff yet. So I don’t think you should come in.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” John huffed, louder than he should have.

“Quiet.” Arthur snapped. “. . . Just go around the back and listen in.”

“And how does _that_ help?”

Arthur paused again. “In case it goes bad in there, like maybe they throw me in a cell, you’ll be able to get back to camp and bring Hosea and Dutch to help.”

John thought on this. “If you’re that worried about it.” Then he grinned up at him. “I’ll watch your back.”

Arthur had to keep himself from snorting. If it made the kid behave and do what he was told, Arthur would accept that. “Sure.” He nodded. “I’ll go in first, you hang back then go around the side to listen.”

John nodded.

With that, Arthur crossed the street. He walked up the steps to the sheriff’s office, not bothering to hesitate when he reached the door, going directly in.

There were two men inside. Or rather, one blond man, and a thin brown haired kid who must have only been a teenager. Immediately, the man looked up from the paper on his desk. Arthur watched as the man’s eyes quickly looked him up and down, obviously sizing him up. “And who are you supposed to be?” The man asked, a hint of danger to his voice.

“Name’s Arthur.” He replied.

The man waited for more, brow raised.

Arthur continued. “Just new in town, and thought I’d come check in at the Sheriff’s office and see if he knew about any work in town. Sheriffs usually know the most about the comings and goings don’t they?”

“Course they do.” Replied the teenager.

The man snorted. “Well, we’re supposed to.” 

“That make you the sheriff?” Arthur asked

“Can’t you see the star?” He leaned back in his chair, patting the shiny badge on his vest. “Name’s Felix White. Sheriff White to you, boy.”

The name was fitting, Arthur figured. As the man had hair so blond it was nearly white. “Good to meet you Sheriff White.” Arthur nodded towards the kid. “That your deputy?”

“Deputy Ricky Wallace.” The dark haired teenager replied.

“A pleasure, Deputy Wallace.”

Felix interrupted. “Son, I understand you’re new in town, but why on god’s green Earth would you think I have time to help you find a job?”

Arthur shrugged. “You don’t gotta help personally, just point me in the right direction, if you don’t mind.”

“Where you from, boy?” White asked.

“Travel around a lot.” Arthur replied. “From nowhere in particular.”

“Well, here in civilization, we don’t barge into people’s places of work asking for favors from folks we ain’t ever met.”

Arthur threw his hands up defensively. “I didn’t mean no disrespect sir, I only wish to make some money to help my family get by for the winter.”

“We’re all trying to get ready for the winter. It’s Colorado.” Sheriff White laughed. “You look big and dumb, maybe try asking around some local farms or the stable.”

“No offense sir, I mean I like horses well enough. But I was thinking I may be of more use, perhaps as something like a bounty catcher.”

“Bounty catcher?” White almost lost it. He looked to his deputy. “You hear that? This country bumpkin thinks he could be a bounty catcher.”

A few years younger, and Arthur may have lost his cool at the berating. And truthfully he was close to it even now. So the timing of the sudden high-pitched yelling outside was a perfect interruption.

The deputy perked up. “The hell is that, some kids?”

White sighed in frustration. “Sounds like it’s coming from around back, go see to it, Wallace.”

With little hesitation, the deputy grabbed his hat and bolted out the door. Leaving Arthur alone with the sheriff.

Felix looked the young man over once more. “You ain’t cut out to be a bounty catcher. You don’t got the smarts for it. You’ll just get yourself killed. And what kind of lawman would I be, sending a dumb shit-for-brains kid to get himself killed? Go find a farm, you look strong enough for that.” The sheriff leaned forward to his desk again. “Now there’s my help for you.” He threw up his hand. “So get out of here, I have work to do.”

Arthur clenched his jaw for a moment before giving a nod. “Yes sir, thank you for your time.” Then he walked out, shutting the door behind him harder than he should have. Then again, the sheriff did say he looked strong. So perhaps he could get away with it.

He heard that Ricky kid yelling around back, and Arthur was suddenly hit with a realization. He’d been so caught up in keeping his cool in front of the sheriff, he’d nearly forgotten about _John._

Quickly, he turned the corner, going down the same alley he’d sent his little brother. Arthur found the deputy shouting at five dirty looking kids. Six, if he counted John.

“Just what in the hell are you little shits doing now?” Ricky hollered.

The biggest of the kids, probably around fourteen like John was, spat on the ground at Wallace’s feet. “We was just playing.”

“Sure didn’t sound like playing to me. If I catch you boys picking fights again, I _will_ lock you up!”

The kid scoffed. “Empty threats.” He looked to the rest of his friends. “Let’s get out of here.” Then he glared at John. “I’ll see you again.”

It was almost threatening, Arthur mused. But just as it was with John, it’s hard to find a child scary. John, however, seemed to take it to heart, unable to mask the fear on his face. And yet, he snarled right back. “You wanna fight me? You better make it fair. I’ll kill you!”

The boys just laughed at him as they ran off. 

Wallace turned to John. “You alright, kid? Need help?”

John’s eyes darted between Arthur, then the deputy for a split second, landing back on the lawman. “No, they didn’t get me too bad. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you need a ride home?”

John shook his head. “Nah, got some family in town right now.”

“I ain’t ever seen you before? You new?”

“Passing through.” John shrugged. “May stick around a month or so.”

Wallace seemed satisfied with that. “Well come see us if you ever need anything, and try to stay away from that bunch, they’re nothing but trouble.”

John rubbed a growing bruise on his cheek. “Yeah, I found that out myself.”

As the deputy turned around, he startled for a moment when he finally noticed Arthur, who’d been standing in the alley, keeping watch. “Whoa, didn’t know you were there.” He exhaled.

Arthur shrugged. “Yeah, sorry. Should’ve said something. Just making sure you didn’t need no help.”

Surprisingly, the deputy smiled. “Thank you for that. Nothing serious though, for now.” He went to move past Arthur, and Arthur followed. Being sure to not acknowledge John. As they walked, the deputy spoke low all of a sudden. “Sorry about the sheriff’s bad attitude, he’s a good man. It’s just. Well there’s been so much trouble around here recently, he’s been extra weary of strangers.”

Arthur nodded. “I understand.” He lied. “Is there any way I can help?”

The deputy sighed. “I dunno, just let us know if you see anything suspicious. People been spreading rumors all around town. Talkative bunch. Hard to know what’s real anymore.”

“Sure, ain’t gonna be much use being an outsider, but I’ll keep an open eye out for you.” Arthur replied.

As they reached the main street again, Wallace gave him a nod and another smile. “Thank you, genuinely.”

“Of course.” Arthur nodded back.

With a quick wave, the deputy went back inside, and Arthur was left by himself. Up until he looked over his shoulder and saw little Johnny creeping in the shadows. He rolled his eyes and gestured with his head down the street towards the hotel. John gave an affirming nod, going back and around the buildings.

Arthur walked down the street, making his way casually, but directly, to the hotel. Inside, the clerk sat bored at the front desk, nose deep in a book. John had already beat him there, having come through the back door he imagined, and was waiting by the desk. Without a word, Arthur continued up the stairs, hearing John at his heels. 

“You wanna tell me what happened?” The young man asked when they finally made it into the room.

John grumbled. “Nothing. They just jumped me.”

Arthur sighed. With John, it was hard to tell who could have started that fight. But from what he could gather, those boys were the rough and rowdy type, they could have simply seen a lone John as an easy target. “Alright, you really aren’t hurt, right?”

John shook his head again. “Only got a few hits in before that lawman showed up.” 

“Why didn’t you just pull your gun on them and make them back off?” Arthur asked.

The kid frowned. “I told them I had a pistol, but they either didn’t believe me or didn’t care. They got to me quicker than I could draw it.”

Arthur sighed. “Guess we gotta work on that.” He paused a moment. “Not that I really think you should be pulling a gun on kids.”

“Much as they made me mad. I don’t know if I could really’ve shot one of them. Would’ve been nice to scare them off though.” John sat down in the chair, quickly changing the subject. “What did you find out?”

Arthur didn’t mind the change in topic. “That the sheriff is an asshole.”

“That it?” 

“Yeah, deputy _seems_ to be a decent kid. He thinks people may be spreading rumors around town.”

John frowned again. “Does that make what we heard today less likely now?”

“I dunno. The deputy could be full of shit too. Only way to find out is to observe.”

“Then where are we looking next?”

Arthur shook his head. “Might not be good to go snooping around much more today, may raise suspicion.”

John nodded, then paused a moment. “So now what?”

He scratched his chin. “Cards?”

“. . . Yeah, okay.” John replied with a shrug

Arthur grabbed the pack of cards from his satchel, and the two sat down to play some rounds of poker. The rest of the day passed with relative ease, once they were bored with the game, Arthur pulled out his copy of _Treasure Island_ , while John attempted to read the rest of the newspaper he’d left in the room. Eventually the sun set to the point where they finally needed to light a lantern in the room, and the two went back to playing a few more rounds with the deck. 

But, soon enough, Arthur felt himself nodding off, having gotten so little sleep the night before. John seemed to be in a similar position himself. Finishing up the round they were on, Arthur looked over at John, who’d been resting his elbow on the table, his cheek in his palm, gradually sinking further and further to the side. Arthur reached over and lightly smacked the kid, causing him to jolt upwards. “I wasn’t sleeping!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, sure.” Arthur laughed. “Let’s put the cards away, it’s late.”

John groaned and stretched, standing up. “I’m hungry.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “General store is closed by now, and I ain’t going back to the saloon for a third time today. We’ll get you food in the morning.”

“You ain’t got nothing in that satchel of yours?”

He narrowed his eyes at his little brother. “You forget about eating all my biscuits this morning?”

John paled slightly at the memory. “Oh . . . yeah.”

“So, food tomorrow. Sleep now.”

“Fine.” John replied, having already flopped onto the bed.

Arthur stood at stared at him. “What are you doing, Johnny?”

“Getting comfortable. Real beds are so much softer than cots.”

“Yeah, and cots are a lot softer than the ground, which is where you’ll be sleeping tonight.”

John bolted upright. “What? Why?”

“I bought the room, I’m taking the bed.”

“I could’ve paid for half of it!” John pouted. “Besides, it’s a big enough bed, you won’t even know I’m there.”

Arthur laughed. “You thrash so much in your sleep, boy. I don’t need your cold feet kicking me and waking me up.”

“I don’t thrash!”

“Don’t argue with me, off the bed. Or I’ll toss you off.” Arthur took a threatening step closer.

Not needing more convincing than that, John scurried off the other side, standing on the opposite side of the bed. “Well where am I gonna sleep then?”

“I already told you, the floor.”

“Give me a blanket at least?”

Without much thought, Arthur tossed him one pillow and the quilt from the bed. “Happy?” He asked.

“No . . .” John mumbled.

“Don’t complain, you’ve slept in worse places.”

“I don’t have to like it though!” John replied, dropping the bedding on the floor and putting together his makeshift bed for the night.

Arthur only shook his head, taking off his boots, hat, and jacket. He kept his gunbelt and revolver within arm’s reach. Never knew in these kinds of towns if or when he was going to need it. Could never be too safe.

He got himself under the remaining two covers, not really missing the warmth of the quilt. The cooler mountain nights had been a blessing, sleep coming easier as he tended to run warmer than most. He heard John grumbling more, but it faded away as he quickly drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of the past few days having finally caught up with him.

–»»»•«««–

He didn’t dream often, but usually when he did, they were full of anxiety and stress. Not quite nightmares, but close enough. His current dream was filled with dread and uncertainty for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. Sat in a fancy ballroom surrounded by people he didn’t know, all of them looking at him like they could see right through him. Yet when he looked at them, it was like gazing through foggy glass. An old, faceless, white haired man began to approach him when he suddenly jolted awake.

The first thing John thought as he stared blankly at the dark ceiling was how damn cold he was. The second was how uncomfortable the floor was. The kid let out a sigh, louder than he should have. Flinching to himself, expecting to have woken his brother up. But after waiting a few moments, nothing came of it, so he rolled to his side and tried to fall asleep again. 

It was hopeless, he figured, after lying there for what had to have been twenty minutes, mind empty, body restless, and shivering. So, he started listening to the sounds around him. The most immediate thing he heard was the soft steady breathing of Arthur in the bed. A clear sign that he was sleeping. John was thankful that he wasn’t snoring. Sharing a tent with him was a nightmare when he snored, like sleeping next to a bear.

Then suddenly a feint sound caught his attention, so small he almost thought it was nothing, but then he heard it again. It had to be coming from outside, he quietly stood up. 

Looking to his left and he saw Arthur well and truly asleep, a steady rise and fall to his chest. That almost perpetual scowl was gone, and he looked so much younger. Like the twenty-four year old he was supposed to be. Still just a kid in many ways.

The sound interrupted his thoughts again, so he carried on with his mission, moving swiftly but silently to the window, he peeled back the curtains and peered outside. It was dark, but there was enough light from the moon and the few lit lanterns that he could make something out. Something that seemed a little strange.

His eyes already well adjusted to the dim lighting, John was able to make out at least two figures dragging something to the building across the street. It was the general store he was pretty sure. 

After they disappeared around the back of the building, he waited somewhere between half an hour and an hour to see if they’d reappear. Nearly nodding off in the process. But they never crossed his line of sight again. Either they were still inside, or he missed their exit. Or hell, maybe they were never there to begin with.

John shook his head. For all he knew, this was a normal thing for the general store, perhaps some late night stocking and inventory. And yet, he didn’t know why, but what he’d just seen made him feel uneasy. 

He stood up, fatigue hitting him. The kid was tired enough that he figured he’d probably be able to sleep no problem on the floor, despite the cold. But then he glanced at the bed, Arthur had since rolled onto his side, no longer perfectly in the center, leaving space on one side.

John stood there and debated for a moment, almost deciding against it. But then he shivered. And that sealed the deal. Very carefully, he snuck under the covers of the bed, already feeling warmer. He kept an eye on Arthur, his back to John, weary of waking him up and making him mad. But damn, his brother always put off heat like a wood fire stove. John was positive their tent was warmer when Arthur was inside. Which was nice in the winter, but awful in the summer.

Arthur could be a light sleeper, used to waking up at even the slightest sound of potential trouble. But, it seemed like he was still sound asleep, perhaps the exhaustion from the previous night had gotten to him. 

John let out a breath, his cold, stiff body was already relaxing and warming up. He fell asleep almost as soon as he shut his eyes. The kid was sure Arthur would give him hell in the morning, but as far as he was concerned, it was worth it.

–»»»•«««–

Arthur woke up feeling a weight on him, and feeling far too hot. Half asleep, he barely thought about it. Until suddenly his brain put it together and realized there was something there. His eyes snapped open, but the alarm quickly subsided when he felt the icy cold feet at his legs and knew exactly what is was.

His idiot brother was clinging to his back like a baby possum. Irritated, he took a quick peek over his shoulder and went to snarl something, but before the sound could leave him, he saw his little brother shaking from the cold, and he stopped himself.

“Damn it, Marston.” He said quietly. His voice was all mumble, heavy with sleep.

John was a heavier sleeper than he was, so when pried himself away from him and got out of bed, the kid was still dead to the world. But he did curl in on himself and begin to shiver even more, shimmying into the warm spot Arthur left on the mattress.

Arthur let out a sigh, speaking softly. “You really need more meat on your bones. Always so cold.” 

He went around the side of the bed and grabbed the quilt and pillow off the floor, throwing them both over John. A quick check to the time on his pocket watch, he saw it was about 4am, too early to get up and do anything in a town like this. So he nudged John back to the other side of the bed and got under the covers, hoping he wouldn’t wake up with a little possum at his back again. Already the kid had rolled himself up in the additional quilt and was scooting closer to him once again, still fast asleep. Arthur just sighed and drifted back to sleep.

\-----

He should’ve known better, he figured, when he woke back up a few hours later, that same extra weight on him. There were a lot of things Arthur could have done to remedy the situation, yell at the kid, push him off. Both. 

Yet, instead, he laid there for what must have been another thirty minutes. Much longer and he would have taken some kind of action, but then he heard the usual groans John made when he was waking up, followed by a very quiet “Oh, shit.”

On cue, Arthur looked over his shoulder and glared at the kid, faking a much higher level of frustration than what he was actually feeling. “I told you not to get your damn cold feet on me.” He growled out, voice gone even deeper in the morning, he hardly recognized himself.

John seemed to buy it, as he usually did when Arthur gave him the tough love act. He scurried away from Arthur, off the side of the bed, where he stood, his teeth beginning to chatter. “Sorry, I was just so cold on the floor!”

Arthur shook his head out and stood up too. “I better not have to ask you again.” He bit out, words far harsher than he felt.

John pouted. “What difference does it make anyway, didn’t wake you up till morning.”

Arthur raised a brow, but didn’t comment on that. “Just get ready to leave, Marston. We got things to do. And I need food.”

The kid nodded, looking to the floor, then scrunching his brow when he didn’t find what he was looking for. “Where’s the -“ Then he looked up at the bed. “ . . . quilt.”

Arthur watched as John apparently pieced together this great mystery in his head, then started looking between Arthur and the quilt.

“When did that blanket get there?” He asked. “Did you put it on me?”

Arthur scoffed. “No. Why would I do that? You must have brought it with you when you snuck in like a bed bug.”

John didn’t seem convinced, but he knew better than to press Arthur on it. “What are we doing for food?”

“Going to the general store.”

The kid nodded then suddenly shot up to attention. “Oh! I saw something really weird happen last night _at_ the general store!”

Arthur paused for a moment, taken by surprise. “What you mean by ‘ _weird’_?”

“I woke up cause I was really cold.” John began.

The young man nodded, waiting for more.

“And I couldn’t get back to sleep, then I heard a noise outside, so I went to investigate.”

“What was it?” Arthur asked, somewhat intrigued now.

John deflated just a bit. “I uhh, I’m not all that sure.”

Arthur gave him an annoyed look, mouth a straight line and brows dropped.

John pushed on. “But I saw a couple people dragging something behind the back of the general store, it was the middle of the night!”

Arthur waited for more, hearing nothing. “That it?” He asked.

John deflated even more. “Well, doesn’t that seem weird?”

Arthur shrugged, thinking about it. In truth, that was a little strange. “Yeah, yeah I don’t think that’s normal for a general store.” He smiled a bit. “We did hear there may be something up with that place.” Arthur went over and slapped John on the back, smile becoming a big grin. “You may have found us a lead, kid.”

John beamed up at him, his eyes suddenly seemed very bright. “What should we do?”

He thought on it for a moment, scratching his chin. “Needed to go in there for some supplies and food this morning anyway.”

“What will we do in there? Ask questions? Just look around?”

“We’ll look around, I’ll ask the questions if it comes to that. Just buy what you need as you normally would, don’t make it into a big deal.”

John nodded. “Are we going in together?”

“May as well.” He replied. “Let’s get ready to go.”

Getting their things together, and getting dressed, they left the hotel room within a few minutes. Arthur was still drowsy, but he imagined the kid was even worse off if he’d spent a good portion of the night unable to fall asleep and watching out the window. He remembered being John’s age, needing to sleep so much, and always needing more food. Though John was so picky sometimes, it was no wonder he was such a gangly twig. 

Outside, Artemisia perked up when she saw them. Betraying her usual cool demeanor, hopeful she’d get to finally go somewhere. Arthur gave her a quick pat. “Good morning, Missy.” He said quietly. “I promise you we’ll go for a run later today.”

She huffed when he kept moving and didn’t unhitch her. The big horse knew she’d be stuck there for a while longer. He’d have to get her some food or take her out to graze today at some point along with the exercise.

They walked up the steps to the store, Arthur took a glance at that overpriced barrel of apples he’d seen on the way into town the previous day. ‘90¢ per apple’ the sign read. Arthur scoffed. It was outlandish.

He couldn’t imagine what the rest of the stuff inside was going to cost. So when he opened the door and did a quick scan, he was surprised to see far more tame and standard pricing. But perhaps there was an apple shortage around here, and the rest wouldn’t be so bad. The store itself was plain and as generic a general store as they came. The only thing out of the ordinary was a subtle, persistent smell that Arthur could not place.

The shopkeep greeted them in a neutral tone. An older man, balding and not trying to hide it. “Morning, boys. Anything I can help you with?” 

Arthur gave a charming smile, or an attempt at one. “Just here for some food and supplies.”

The owner gave a grunt of acknowledgement. “Well, canned food on the shelves, fresh food by the front, got cigarettes up here, kerosene by the back door. Also got a few clothes in the back corner. Those are the usual things drifters want, anything else you need?” 

There was a subtle emphasis on ‘drifters,’ Arthur noticed. “We’re mostly here for the food, thank you sir.” He replied, disarming smile still plastered to his face.

The clerk gave a curt nod. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

Arthur looked over to see John had already rushed to look at the few jars of candy. Arthur joined him. “You know, you need to eat more than candy if you ever want to grow.”

“It’s my money, I’ll buy what I want.” The kid replied.

“Just don’t let it be all you eat for the next couple days. Savor it.” He said, being genuine.

John seemed surprised by the kindness in Arthur’s tone. He couldn’t blame him, considering all the usual teasing they did. “Alright.” John said simply.

Arthur gestured towards some shelves of canned food. “Come on, let’s find something to eat for breakfast and stock up.”

John followed. "Please don’t just buy beans.”

The young man scoffed. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“It’s happened before.”

Arthur paused. “. . . I was probably drunk at the time.”

“Weren't a ‘probably.’”

“Stop sassing me, boy.”

John gave him a shit-eating grin. But didn’t continue. Instead he looked to the shelves and grabbed a can of apricots, staring at it.

“Apricots, John.” Arthur said. “I think you should try them, you might like it.”

Not convinced, John put the can back. “I dunno.”

“Yeah, that’s why you try them. So you will know.”

John sighed, but grabbed the can again. “Alright.”

“I’ll give you a deal, Johnny. Whatever you buy for breakfast today, I’ll buy another for you. You need some meat on your bones. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so damn cold all the time.”

“Fine.” John groused. “But only ‘cause I’m not paying for it.”

The two boys worked through the store. Taking in all the products and buying what they needed, all while looking for anything out of the ordinary. The vague, strange smell remained the whole time they were there. It was almost familiar, Arthur thought. But he couldn’t place a source, and had gone nose-blind to it within minutes.

Along with food, Arthur picked up more cigarettes, and was sure to remind John to get his own packs before the dumb kid forgot again. John also bought himself a new, warmer jacket at Arthur’s recommendation, not needing much convincing once he tried it on.

Their separate purchases paid for, they made their way out from the general store, just in time to see a very familiar leopard appaloosa being hitched outside the hotel next to Missy.

“Hosea!” John called loudly.

Arthur glared at the kid. “Quiet down.” He hissed.

John flinched slightly, realizing his mistake.

Across the way, Hosea had noticed them. Standing on the hotel steps he gave them a wave. His horse was greeting Artemisia, who nipped at him when he got too close.

Arthur reached them in time to catch her doing it. “Cut that out, Missy.” He said sharply. “Sassafras was just saying hello.”

“Oh, don’t mind her, Arthur.” Hosea said. “Sass can deal with it. Not like he’s been dealing with it for years now anyway.”

“She can learn still.” Arthur replied.

“I think it may be too late for that.” Hosea laughed.

The young man sighed. “You may be right.”

“It’s good to see you boys. Getting supplies?” He asked.

Arthur nodded. “Wasn’t sure how long we’d be in town, and haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Oh dear.” Hosea replied. “Better get some food in you both before you start clawing each other’s eyes out.”

“Nearly had that happen already.” John piped in.

“Really now?” The older man raised a brow, then gave Arthur a questioning look. “What happened?”

“Nothing major.” Arthur said. “Let’s get inside, alright?”

“Giving me orders, huh?” Hosea teased. “Well okay then, lead the way.”

Back in their hotel room, Hosea insisted Arthur and John eat the food they’d bought for themselves before they told him anything they’d seen the past few days. John was hesitant to try his apricots at first, as he was with almost any food. But once he ate one, he changed his tune, eating the whole can and some of the second Arthur’d bought for him.

With their food eaten, they explained everything they’d observed and learned the past day, Hosea took in the details and asked the occasional question for elaboration or clarification. 

By the time he was caught up, Hosea seemed very intrigued. “There’s a lot of potential in this town.” He said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his chin. “I’d love to check some of this out, but I don’t think you boys should be involved. Best it’s not known we know each other just yet. 

“Probably a good thing that clerk downstairs had his face buried in a newspaper when we all came in.” Arthur added.

“Very good thing.” Hosea agreed. He turned to John. “You are absolutely positive you saw nothing else last night regarding the general store?”

John seemed to wrack his brain for a few moments, then shook his head. “What I told you is everything I saw.”

“It’s very curious, is all.” Hosea then looked to Arthur. “And there was nothing strange when you went into the store?”

“Nothing. The apple prices outside were expensive, but everything inside was standard. About the only weird thing was this subtle smell. Must have been some new product I’m not familiar with. But that doesn’t mean there’s not something nefarious going on in there.”

“Perhaps.” He said quietly. Then he looked up. “I need you two to go back to camp and send Bessie to town.”

“Really?” John asked. “But we just got here.”

“Can’t have you two hanging around here like a bad smell while I try to look into things. Me and Bessie will try to find some things out that you two wouldn’t be able to.”

“You don’t think we can do it?” John said, suddenly crestfallen.

“No, no.” Hosea replied. “We just need to take a different approach, some things are easier for you boy to find out, but sometimes you need a woman's touch." Hosea winked.

“Oh.” Said the kid. “That’s true.”

Hosea looked to Arthur once more. “What do you think?”

He shrugged. “I think it’s a fair point. Is there anything you think we should bring back to camp with us before we leave town?”

Hosea shook his head. “We’ll be fine for now, I’ll take care of that when I come back with Bessie in a few days.”

Arthur nodded, standing up. “Suppose we best get going sooner than later.” He turned to John. “You ready to go?”

“I guess.” He shrugged. “What are going to do at camp?”

“The usual.” Arthur replied.

“Chores?” John frowned.

“Yes, chores.” Seeing the look on John’s face, Arthur decided to try and cheer him up. “But I did promise you some target practice.”

Once again, John’s eyes lit up. Not much made the kid more excited and willing to actually _do_ something. “When?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Arthur paused. “ _If_ Dutch doesn’t end up giving me something to do.”

John didn’t need much more convincing to get ready to go. With their things together, Arthur checked them out of the hotel. Once outside, Hosea gave them their goodbyes. And Arthur unhitched Artemisia, mounting up with John, the big horse happy to finally be on the move again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pandemic? Destroying my productivity? Nahhhhhh
> 
> I love these brothers, but they sure do love to bicker. That's siblings though I suppose. 
> 
> I don't think any of the horses we'd see in 1899 would be around at this time, the outlaw life is too dangerous for a horse to make it to a ripe old age I imagine ): So that's why I gave Hosea a different horse that wasn't Silver Dollar.
> 
> I need to edit and post the chapter of my other long fic, but then I'll get right back to writing for Jewel.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! All your kudos and comments make my heart full <3

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved mysteries, so I wanted to try my hand at writing one. I've had this idea in my head for too long, I needed to get it out. I don't think I'll be able to have a consistent update schedule, but I'll try to write as often as I can! Think this one will end up being between 50-100K words overall.
> 
> I just love the brothers so much, and I wanted to write something heavily featuring them. I'm very excited to get this story out there, please let me know what you think! Comments are the greatest source of motivation <3
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @PrairieMule, I post nothing but red dead stuff.


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